


The Beauty and the Beast Beneath the Veil

by Tjorven



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Doctor Who (2005), La Belle et la Bête | Beauty and the Beast (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/F, Interspecies Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 12:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17828687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tjorven/pseuds/Tjorven
Summary: A silly little Jenny&Vastra Fairy Tale AU."They thought her odd. A girl who read. A girl who put on trousers ever so often and practiced her fighting skills. What good would that ever do her in her inevitable fate to be a wife and mother? They thought her to be funny, peculiar, and maybe not quite right in the head. She had heard whispers of “never participates” and “no friends” just as much as “it’s a sin, surely, for a woman…” ..."The outlandishly smart girl, who always thought to escape the narrow confines and the boredom of life in a small village through books of grand adventure, meets a monster.Inspired by this tumblr post:http://evilqueenofgallifrey.tumblr.com/post/152882906080/jennyvastra-fairytale-au-headcanons





	The Beauty and the Beast Beneath the Veil

“Once upon a time in a faraway land a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired…”  
“But it wasn’t a faraway land, was it, granny? It was here, in our forest, right?” an eager little voice interrupted the story. The old woman smiled her toothless smile and nodded.  
“That is right, my dear, it was in this very forest,” she said and pointed a wrinkly finger at the window that looked out at the edge of a great, dark forest. “Just there, in the old castle, and…”  
“And the monster is still there, right granny, right? That’s why we can never go into the forest, because the monster would eat us all, right?” she was interrupted again, this time by a different but equally eager voice. The old woman nodded again.  
“Yes, you are very right. It seems there is no need for me to tell you the story, since you all know it so well.” A chorus of ‘no’s and ‘tell us the story, we’ll be quite, promise’s followed that statement, and so the old woman continued her tale of the arrogant prince that denied a poor woman a warm bed in a cold night and got cursed for his cold heart.

Jenny just smiled at the young children who were all gathered around the old woman in the book shop and intently listening to a story they all must have heard at least a hundred times. This was a small town and there were not many stories to be told. She, too, had grown up with that particular story. As a child she had been determined to find the monster and slaughter it, so the forest would be save again. In her head she had been the brave knight in shining armour that rid the world of evil and freed the little people, but it had soon been brought to her attention that she was, in fact, a girl and thus could only _marry_ the brave knight, but never _be_ it.  
While the other wild girls had eventually grown out of it and accepted their place in society, Jenny’s head was still full of fighting and adventures and she had sworn to herself to never settle to be some man’s little wife who scrubbed the floors and looked after their army of children.

No, Jenny wanted to be an adventuress. She had read all the books she could get her hands on, twice, and she had started training hand-to-hand combat and sword fight at the age of fourteen. Although she had gotten rather good at it by now, Jenny had to admit that her sparring partner was actually just a straw puppet and her sword was nothing more than a large stick. But her training had come in handy on more than one occasion when she had to fend off an overly handsy admirer. One after the other had been dumped rather unceremoniously on their behinds and most had learned their lessons after the first time.  
She stood, lost in thought, in the middle of the book shop, a random book in hand, when a kind voice spoke to her.

“All right there, dear? Have you found anything interesting to read then?” It was the shop owner, a nice older man who had taken a liking to Jenny and her love of books. He was probably the only one in the whole town who did not think her weird – apart from her father. Everyone else just shook their heads when Jenny passed by on the streets, her nose buried in one book or other, not really paying attention to anything around her. But she heard their whispers and felt their stares. They thought her odd. A girl who read. A girl who put on trousers ever so often and practiced her fighting skills. What good would that ever do her in her inevitable fate to be a wife and mother? They thought her to be funny, peculiar, and maybe not quite right in the head. She had heard whispers of “never participates” and “no friends” just as much as “it’s a sin, surely, for a woman…” and “her poor father, but then he’s also a bit touched…in the head, you know, what with his inventions and all”. Only the latter ever bothered her. People could talk their mouths off about her all they wanted, that was fine, but no one, absolutely no one, was allowed to speak ill of her dear father.

He and Jenny both had suffered terrible loss when her mother had died just a few hours after giving birth to her fifth child, who had also died. They had been quickly followed by all three of Jenny’s siblings and now it was only her and her father. The house had seemed awfully quiet at first, but they had gotten used to it and made the best out of it. With just the two of them to feed, he had finally been able to follow his lifelong dream to become an inventor of helpful machines. Jenny had taken a job as maid for an old widow who not only hired Jenny despite her many character flaws, but specifically for them.

 

 _Jenny was led into a small room and her heart sank at the sight of the many young women in maid’s uniforms. Surely she would not get the job with all these lovely ordinary girls here to apply for it. Each and every one would be better suited for a position in a rich widow’s household than her._  
_Her heart was heavy when her name was called and she walked through the doors just as countless girls had done before her._  
_“Come here, girl!” a voice demanded. It belonged to a frail old woman in a wheelchair that stood next to a French window. Before Jenny could even open her mouth, the woman spoke again._  
_“What’s your name, then? Is it Mary or Jane or anything of the sort?” Jenny shook her head no._  
_“No, ma’am, it’s Jenny, Jenny Flint.” Oddly enough, the woman smiled._  
_“Jenny Flint, huh? That’s a good name, girl, you should keep it.” Jenny was confused. Of course she would keep it, it was her name after all._  
_“Now, tell me, Jenny Flint, what is your favourite past time?” Jenny instantly panicked, not being able to think of even one acceptable past time for a young woman. She knew there were many, but no matter how hard she searched her brain for something, she came up blank, and ended up blurting out “Adventures!” which was arguably the worst thing she could have said. Only that it wasn’t._  
_“Adventures? Sit and tell, girl,” the woman ordered, pointing at a small chair next to her. Jenny did as she was told and for some reason the old woman seemed to enjoy her tale of books she had read and adventures she had dreamt about._  
_“In other words waiting around in some tower to be rescued by a handsome prince is not what you’d like to do,” the old woman concluded with an intent stare. Jenny shook her head._  
_“No, I’m not really the swooning type.” At that the woman gave a hearty chuckle and nodded._  
_“No, you’re not. Very well then, Jenny Flint, the not swooning type, you have the job. I expect great things from you.”_  
_And that was that. Jenny had sat there, mouth agape, but apparently the matter was settled. All the other girls were sent home and Jenny was expected to start working the very next morning. And she did._  
_There was not much actual work to be done, but her new Mistress demanded she’d spent at least three hours of her working day in her private library and another two on “physical exercises”. Jenny had had no objections._  
_But then, just after two years in her service, the Mistress had died of old age, and Jenny had found herself unemployed and unable to find another position._

 

Jenny left the shop with a book she had read twice already, but she liked the story and the sense of adventure. It was one of the rare stories that did not end in an inevitable romance and she liked it all the more for that reason.  
She walked down the street past market stands and street vendors, but she saw none of it as her nose was buried in her book, absorbing the already familiar words, her mind a million miles away.

She did not see the stares, nor hear the whispers of the people around her, and she also did not notice someone not so stealthily following her.  
Her feet had almost brought her home on their own accord, when suddenly something stood in her way. Or rather someone, she noticed as she looked up from her book.  
Jenny gave a deep sigh.

“Hello, Angus.” But in lieu of a greeting Angus snatched the book from her, inspecting it critically.  
“How can you read this?” he asked, while holding the book upside down with his head inclined to the side. “There’s no pictures.” Jenny folded her arms before her chest and gave him a quizzical look.  
“Well, some people use their imagination.”  
“Jenny, it’s about time you got your head out of those books and paid attention to more important things.” And with that he threw the book carelessly over his shoulder. As it landed in the mud with a soft _thud_ , he continued. “Like me.” He gave her his trademark smile that made ever girl nearby swoon. And there were actually girls sighing and swooning over him just across the street, Jenny noticed irritated when she went to pick up her book, trying to clean away the mud with her sleeve. It took her great effort not to punch him in the face then and there.

“The whole town’s talking about it, it’s not right for a woman to read. Soon she starts getting ideas and thinking,” he droned on, completely ignoring her annoyed expression. She took a deep breath and replied as calmly as humanly possible.  
“Angus, you’re positively primeval.” He smiled proudly at her.  
“Why, thank you, Jenny,” he said. Apparently he took her words as an invite for physical contact, because he snatched the book out of her hands yet again, put his arm around her shoulder, and invited her over to the tavern to look at his hunting trophies. There was little in the world Jenny would have liked to do less, and so she declined.  
“Maybe some other time,” she tried to stay polite and not cause a scene on the street. People were already talking about her enough as it was. She grabbed the book from him and stepped away quickly, securing it in her arms like a treasure.  
“Please, Angus, I can’t. I have to help my father. Goodbye.”

And that would have been the end of it, hadn’t it been for Angus’s little lackey, Leod, who had just shown up with what Jenny deemed to be Angus’s latest kill.  
“That crazy old loon. He needs all the help he can get,” he laughed in her face. Angus was quick to join him, her father obviously nothing more than a joke to both of them. Jenny was done being polite. Now she would make them pay.  
“Don’t talk about my father that way! My father is not crazy, he’s a genius!” She was just preparing herself to lunge at them, when something exploded behind her. She realised with terror it had come from her house. Her house with her father inside!  
All thoughts of Angus and his annoying friend forgotten, Jenny turned and ran towards the now smoking house, leaving the cackling men standing in the street.

 

Detecting the source of the explosion was easy as thick dark smoke poured out of the wooden doors that led to the cellar. Jenny was quick to open them and coughed immediately, but her father was down there, so she fought through the urge to run and went down the stairs. Soon she could hear her father coughing and cursing. Relieve flooded through her whole body as the smoke gradually dissolved and she could make out her father’s form, apparently head first stuck inside a barrel.

“Papa? Papa, are you all right?” More cursing ensued, which she took as a yes.  
“I’m… I’m about ready to give up on this hunk of junk,” he declared, kicking his newest invention for good measure. Jenny just laughed.  
“You always say that.”  
“I mean it this time!” he swore, “I’ll never get this boneheaded construction to work!”  
“Yes, you will! And you’ll win first prize at the fair tomorrow,” she said, like she had done at least a hundred times before, and hugged him from behind. “And you’ll become a world famous inventor.” His face softened instantly. He could never stay angry when his daughter sweet-talked him like that, and Jenny knew it.  
“You really believe that?”  
“I always have,” she said with a smile that seemed to refresh her father’s spirits, for he leaped up and went right back to work.

“Well, what are we waiting for? I’ll have this thing fixed in no time,” he declared as he crawled under the machine to fix whatever it was that had caused the explosion. Jenny stayed to hand him the tools he needed. It had become an easy routine for them since the rest of their family had died, her father working on some invention or other and Jenny handing him the appropriate tools without him ever having to ask for them. They worked together well, they always had, and Jenny loved to watch her father work on his dream.  
“So, did you have a good time in town today?” came his muffled voice from under the apparatus.

“Well, I got a new book…,” she trailed off and handed him another tool. After a short pause she added, “Papa, do you think I’m odd?” Sometimes it bothered her more than she cared to admit. At that her father shot out from under his machine, the size of his eyes tripled by the magnifying glasses that were attached to the funny little hat he was wearing.  
“My daughter? Odd? Where would you get an idea like that?” He sounded honestly befuddled by her suggestion.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s just that I’m not sure I fit in here,” Jenny admitted quietly. “There is no one I can really talk to.”  
Her father had already dove back under his machine, but she could hear the mischief in his voice clear as day when he spoke.  
“What about that Angus? He’s a handsome fella.” Still, Jenny’s anger flared up again as she started ranting about the ‘handsome fella’ that was just a rude and conceit little…  
“Well, don’t you worry,” her father’s voice interrupted her and he emerged from under the machine, “Because this invention is going to be the start of a new life for us. I think that’s done it. Now, let’s give it a try.” Without so much as a warning he pulled a lever and they both ducked in fear of another explosion. But there was none, instead the machine started humming and whistling, little objects attached to it started whirling around and around and then – to Jenny’s surprise and her father’s relieve – it started chopping wood and sorting the pieces into a neat pile.

“It works!” Jenny exclaimed.  
“It does?”  
“You did it! You really did it!” Jenny sing-songed as she hugged her father and did a little happy dance with him.  
“I did it… I did it!” The realisation hit him full force as he stood in the way of the machine and a piece of wood hit him in the head. He recovered quickly, however, and told Jenny to hitch up Philip, their faithful horse, because he would be on his way to the fair.

 

Just an hour later Jenny saw her father off, both full of hope and concern. She had no doubt he could win the fair, but the way there was dangerous and her father was not a young man anymore. She simply could not lose him as well.  
She stood there for a long time and watched him fade into a little speck on the horizon.


End file.
